Intermittent Fasting: How I Took Back My Health After 60 with Intermittent Fasting

 

How I Took Back My Health After 60 with Intermittent Fasting

For much of my adult life, I held a relatively stable weight. I generally hovered around about twelve and a half stones-in kilos, close to about eighty. For someone six-foot tall, it was just appropriate. Not skinny, not obese-just comfortable. I could wear anything I wanted, move around with no restraint, and think less about weights or dieting issues.

But it all started shifting once I reached my 40s; nothing dramatic; nothing sudden at first. It was, however, routine and consistent-a pound here; a few pounds there. I attributed it to aging or maybe a slowing metabolism or life catching up on me. After all, we all slow down a bit, do we not?

By the time my 60s rolled around, the scale had told a truth I was trying to ignore: I was at 16 stones, or about 101 kilos. That is more than 20 kilos gained in 20 years. To many, this may not sound very catastrophic, especially in one's height. That means I could still carry myself quite well. But frankly, mirrors don't lie. And so does not the fabric we dress.

Belts that were once worn comfortably were now tight. My shirts strained at the buttons. Trousers that used to be loose-fitting were tight-fitting now. I kept telling myself I was just "filling out" a bit. But the truth was, I wasn't just filling out-I was slipping into a lifestyle that quietly, steadily diminished my energy, my self-esteem, and my sense of control over my own body.

The Wake Up Call It is January. I scrolled through social media pictures like most other people at home, and there came a post on intermittent fasting, not an ad sponsored by an influencer promising supplements. It was just one of those ordinary persons sharing their journey: the 16:8 method of fasting, meaning 16 hours of fasting and 8 hours of eating.

It sounded…simple. Almost too simple. You fast for 16 hours, but 8 of those hours are when you're asleep. The idea was to skip breakfast and delay your first meal until relatively early afternoon, around 2 p.m. Have a reasonable eating schedule within the window of that 8 hours and stop. No pills, no shakes, no calorie counting. Just time-based eating.

Something clicked in me. Maybe it was the new year. Maybe it was just fed up with feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. Either way, I decided the time was right- Why not?

Day One: No Breakfast, No Drama. The following morning, I woke up and on a total whim decided not to eat. I had my usual cup of black coffee (which doesn't break a fast, apparently) and did my morning like nothing had happened. Expecting hunger pangs, possibly dizziness, but to my surprise nothing. Absolutely felt fine.

My adult life is notable for the fact that my weight has not really changed steadily for long periods of time. For years, I have kept my weight hovering at around 12 and a half stones—some 80 kilos. When I stood at six feet, it felt okay—not skinny, not overweight—just comfortable. I wore whatever I liked, ambulated freely, and never was a conscious thought of weight or dieting.

But then, things began to change in my 40s. An onset, perhaps, but nothing drama-inducing: slow and sustained. A pound here, two pounds there. I would have possibly attributed this to age, metabolism, perhaps just life catching up with me. After all, we all slow down a bit, don't we?

By the 60s, the scale began to tell the tale I wished to ignore: 16 stones—about 101 kilos. That would be over 20 kilos in as many years. To some, it might not appear disastrous—especially for a person of my height. I could still hold myself together enough, but mirrors don't lie. Neither do clothes.

Once-padding belts were now working double-time to -tighten. My shirts stressed it at the buttons. Trousers once fit as loose now snug. I was still convincing myself that I was "just a little bit filled out." The truth was that the little bit was a slide into a lifestyle that quietly, steadily stole my energy, my self-esteem, and ownership over my body.

The Alarm

January found me scrolling mindlessly through social media on what had become a common evening of solitude. It was then I saw a post about intermittent fasting. The one that stood out was neither an ad nor a scam expose: some ordinary person just recounting their struggle. They were talking of something called the 16:8 method—16 hours of fasting, 8 hours of eating. 

It sounded...simple. Almost too simple. Sure, you fast for 16 hours, but 8 of those hours are while you are asleep. The plan was to skip breakfast, hold off on eating until mid-afternoon—say 2:00 p.m. Eat normally for those 8 hours and that's it. No pills, no meal replacements, not calorie counting—just eat within a timeframe.

It awoke something in me. Perhaps it was New Year. Perhaps I was just finally fed up with feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. In any case, I decided: Why not?

Day One: No Breakfast; No Big Deal

The next morning, I woke up and, on a total whim, decided that today would be a day of fasting. I had my black coffee, which I read somewhere does not break a fast, and went on with my morning. I was expecting hunger pains, maybe even dizziness. But to my surprise, nothing. I felt perfectly fine.

By 2:00 p.m., I still hadn't eaten. But when I felt a little hungry, I made my lunch, nothing fancy, and waited for dinner in the evening. That was my last meal for the day—no snacks, no biscuits before bed.

Come the end of the first day, it was a mental lightness. Not that I felt any lighter the past day. I just felt like I had made a decision that returned some of my control. 

Week One: Surprisingly, So Easy

I continued with the 16:8 process for the next week. Weirdly easy, again! Mornings were never starving. Even more so, I felt that my energies were more stable: no post-lunch slump was felt. Even more astonishingly, no cravings for sweets or snacks. 

The eating window had been maintained. I didn't binge, neither did I starve myself. I ate what I would have eaten any other time; only the eating time was limited. The small tweak seemed more about a change in habit than a diet.

With a bit of excitement and a tinge of skepticism, I stepped on the scale of the first week, so anxious to see the result. Did it even make a difference?

The Numbers Started Moving

To my shock, I had lost nearly four pounds in just the first week; I had to double-check. Then triple-check. It was actually true!

Now, I do realize that the first stages of any lifestyle change can sometimes yield very drastic results. Water weight, changes in glycogen storage, all that stuff. But even so-it was encouraging. The first real sign in a couple of years that my weight was going in the correct direction. 

What has mattered more, though; I felt a whole lot better—no tightness around my waist from my trousers. I felt light on my feet. My sleep improved. And perhaps even more telling-I started to feel proud of myself again. 

The Build-Up

I sustained the momentum through the weeks. Sure, some days had overpowering cravings, such as the one for a mid-morning croissant! But I kept reminding myself of how far I'd gone. I could picture clearly how I felt at 16 stone-heavy, sluggish, and out of control.

The weight began to shift, bit by bit. Some pounds here, a couple of pounds there. Some weeks were pretty good; all in all, the direction has been downward.

By the end of the third month, I'd lost almost a stone—pretty hard to miss. Friends began commenting. My clothes were fitting better. I caught my reflection in the mirror and didn't cringe.

And the biggest surprise? I wasn't just doing it for the weight anymore. I was enjoying the fasting. It brought back a sense of discipline that I had not known for years. It cleared brain fog. It made my mornings simple-no breakfast prep, no cleanup-just coffee, a little quiet time, and a chance to ease into my day.

More Than Just Weight Loss

People usually believe that weight loss is for vanity. And sure, a part of it is wanting to look better. But this journey wasn't about abs or looking good in a bikini. It was about taking back control over my health.

For too long, I had allowed aging to look like an inevitable decline. I told myself that gaining weight, becoming tired, and feeling low on energy were just part of getting older. The intermittent fasting put a spanner in the works here. 

I didn't need an expensive program or a miracle treatment. I needed a solution that suited my life, taste, and beat. Intermittent fasting was precisely it.

A Sustainable Lifestyle 

It's been several months now, and intermittent fasting is no longer just a phase or a fad diet but instead is an integral part of my lifestyle. I still treat myself, and I still share meals with family and friends. But I have fitted my eating regime into my life instead of against it.

I am still on my journey. Do I have a goal weight? Not really. I simply want to feel good, stay active, and age gracefully and confidently. If the scale goes down, great! If it doesn't? I still win.

Final Thoughts

I'm telling you, if you are in your 50s or 60s, or older, and are convinced that weight loss is impossible for you, it's possible. It's not about punishing yourself for that six-pack or perfect body. It's finding something that works for you-a journey that is sustainable, manageable, and filled with self-love.

Intermittent fasting allowed me to regain control, self-confidence, and clarity. And it only took skipping breakfast to get started.

Well, who knew?